Wrong Diagnosis
by i luv ewansmile
Summary: Lisa Cuddy finds no humor in the fact that Gregory House has misdiagnosed a patient. She's more worried about taking care of him, when he can't seem to take care of himself. Sick! House. House/Cuddy. COMPLETE.
1. I: Revenge of the Clinic

**Wrong Diagnosis**

_**i luv ewansmile**_

**Summary:** Lisa Cuddy finds no humor in the fact that Gregory House has misdiagnosed a patient. She's more worried about taking care of him, when he can't seem to take care of himself. Sick! House. House/Cuddy.

* * *

**Part I: Revenge of the Clinic**

Sitting down at her desk, Lisa Cuddy smiles to herself. House is actually doing his clinic hours without too much complaint and he surely didn't put up much of a fight. I guess sleeping with your employee has its benefits as well as its drawbacks.

* * *

Sitting on a stool in one of the clinic's exam rooms, Gregory House anxiously draws out his diagnosis as his nervous, shy, and stupid patient sits on the crinkle paper of the exam table.

Watching her pale face turn even whiter in anticipation, House sighs and nearly shouts, "You're pregnant". The young female jerks at his diagnosis and admittedly states, "I can't be…"

House gestures to her, "Your bust size, one size too small blouse, and use of sweat pants beg to differ… not to mention the signs of morning sick-"

He doesn't get a chance to finish as he's rudely interrupted as the young lady projectile vomits, hitting him directly in the chest, vomit dripping down his shirt.

He blinks in shock, stands up, and walks out of the room without another word, grabbing a hand full of paper towels as he goes.

"Clean-up in exam room three!" House shouts over at the nurse's station. Throwing the soiled paper towels into the trash, he looks at one of the nurses and tells her, "…and tell Dr. Cuddy she's got a patient in room three, I'm outta here."

* * *

"I can't be pregnant," the lady tells Cuddy.

"We'll do a pregnancy test and see," Cuddy empathically tells her and leaves the nervous lady waiting again on the test results.

* * *

Flipping open the folder containing the test results, Cuddy is shocked House has got one wrong but is not surprised as she tells the lady, "No, you're not pregnant."

The young lady is visibly relieved but is curious, "So what is wrong with me?" She asks, holding her head over a pink emesis basin a nurse had given her after the earlier incident with Dr. House.

"You've got the stomach flu… Go home, rest, drink plenty of fluids, you should be fine in a day or two."

The young lady thanks Dr. Cuddy and she leaves. Cuddy being the business woman she is, goes directly back to the pile of papers on her desk.

* * *

_**Three days later…**_

"Come on peoples…" House yells at his team as they work through a differential diagnosis. He stands at the white board and pauses, taking in a shallow breath as another tightening sensation passes through his core.

With one had grasping the board, the other clutching his cane, he misses the idea Thirteen shouts out. Not liking being ignored, she shouts it again but gets up when she notices he doesn't respond at all and asks, "Are you alright?"

He doesn't hear her but makes a move for his office. Grabbing the trash can, he throws up the few bites of Rueben sandwich and sips of coke he managed to keep down during lunch.

He spits what's left in his mouth, trying to get rid of the taste. He groans, breathing heavily, sweat making his shirt cling to his feverish skin.

Peering at what was left of his lunch, he glances up and sees his team crowded around him. _Ha_, he mentally laughs, _doctors, they're attracted to puke instead of repelled by it._

He gives a small laugh, "Guess I partied too hard last night, should have told her no after the fourth round of tequila."

Seeing that they don't believe him, him knowing that they know he's actually sick, and not hung-over sick, he vehemently spits out the names of the tests they should do, sending them away.

They scatter out his office. Only Thirteen looks back at him, to see if he is indeed all right. He waves his hand in a shoo motion. She graces him with a small smile before leaving.

Feeling drained and nauseous, he picks up his fallen cane and limps heavily to the gentlemen's restroom.

Splashing cool water on his face, he mentally runs through his personal differential diagnosis, coming to a quick conclusion.

"Damn… she wasn't pregnant."

"Who's not pregnant?"

House whips around, head throbbing from the sudden spin, his vision going blurry for a moment before his eyes zone in on the freshly pressed shirt and matching tie of Wilson's.

"Your mother… false alarm… made me start wearing rubbers." House retorts.

Wilson gives him a non-pulsed look.

House rolls his eyes, "What are you doing here?"

"Thirteen." Wilson simply states.

House bobs his head, _of course_.

"How long have you been sick?" Wilson asks, calm and collected per usual.

Knowing Wilson wouldn't let it be and that he is too weak to carry on much more of an argument or make a run for it back to his office, he honestly tells Wilson.

"Little upset stomach this morning, had only puked once before work, thought it was just something I ate last night, felt better for a few hours-" he cuts off as another bout of nausea has him retching into the sink, huffing, "… that was until about twenty minutes ago," he sighs wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, "…when I nearly painted my white board 'vomit yellow'."

Wilson shakes his head, clearing the image and looks on sympathetically as House stumbles into the bathroom stall. The sound of his retching causing Wilson's stomach to clench.

House's voice sounds weak, and pitiful, "…I… I can't keep anything down."

"Go home, lie down. Sleep it off," is Wilson's suggestion.

Wiping his mouth with toilet paper, House chunks the used tissue and flushes. He carefully makes his way out of the stall, washes his hands and walks out of the bathroom, Wilson by his side.

One urgent page later, Dr. Wilson briskly takes off to save one of his patients and House is left on his own.

* * *

Turning around, House closes his office door, locking it. A _click _is heard as the lock slides into place.

He grabs his trashcan and makes his way to the balcony door. He pauses, resting his feverish forehead against the cool glass before taking a few breaths and stepping out into the cool fresh air.

Lying down on the lawn chair, he closes his eyes and quietly observes his body. His labored breathing, the heat radiating off his skin, the clenching feeling residing in his stomach, the increased heart rate making his chest hurt, the pounding in his head, the searing ache of his thigh.

He groans as he pulls out his bottle of Vicodin, just looking at it. Pondering if he could keep the white pills down long enough for his body to absorb them and bring much needed relief to his pain.

Popping the pills in his mouth, he's willing to take the risk and he closes his eyes.


	2. II: My Doctor

**Wrong Diagnosis**

**Part II: My Doctor's Keeper**

_**i luv ewansmile**_

_**

* * *

**_

One hour later…

Getting the feeling that he's being watched, House snaps his eyes open to the sight of the concerned face of Lisa Cuddy.

Along with waking, comes the sensation of agony, as his entire body feels like he's being roasted over a burning fire, aching in places he'd never knew could hurt so bad.

He mentally laughs to himself as he hears the click of her high heels, as she gets closer_. Oh, this day just keeps getting better and better._

"House-" Cuddy starts.

He groans in reply, his head throbbing from even the soft sound of her voice. Hot, wet moisture trickles down his face as he feels the bile rising up his throat.

"One…" _gasp_, "…moment," He whispers, voice paper thin. Rolling to his side, he heaves, his body clenching as he vomits. Puke splattering on the cement as he misses the trashcan. Eyes shut against the nausea. With trembling hands, he wipes at his mouth and face. If Cuddy notices the tears on his face, she doesn't show it.

Cuddy takes a step away from him, scrunching her face up in mild disgust. Breathing a sigh, she walks up to him and motions for him to move his legs, as she sits down beside him.

"So I take it, this is not a hangover." She comments dryly.

House makes a sound halfway between a laugh and cry, and leans back, covering his face with his arm, shielding himself from the sun and Cuddy's pitying stare.

She places her hand on his shoulder, trying to comfort him but he flinches at the touch. When she doesn't withdraw her hand, House moves his arm and opens his eyes, peering at her. His eyes trailing her face, her dark curls, her… chest.

She pops him in the arm for his wandering eyes. He gives her half a smirk, "The girls are…. quite _perky_ today…." His voice sounds rough and he ends up coughing, his body shaking, causing Cuddy's annoyed smile to turn into a worried frown.

Her frown turns into astonishment, as House's face turns green right before her eyes as he hurls. Covering her blouse in foul smelling vomit, making it a biohazard zone, in need of hazmat suited dry cleaners.

Resisting the urge to vomit herself, Cuddy stands up, thankful for the cool breeze blowing fresh, clean smelling air her way.

As House collapses on the chair, exhausted, she makes her way to Wilson's office and marches right in as she sees he's not in with a patient.

Startled by the abrupt appearance of his boss, Wilson stutters, "What happened to your-"

Cuddy cuts him off, "You didn't say he was _this_ sick," she scowls at Wilson, severely agitated, not entirely by the vomit covering the front of her blouse but by the lack of responsibility on Wilson's part to his friend.

House's team had solved their case. Finally having a free moment, Thirteen informed Cuddy of her boss's condition and Cuddy had called Wilson. Having been with a critical patient at the time, Wilson had just told Cuddy House was sick and that he probably would be okay in a little while.

"What are you talking about?" Wilson asks, clearly confused, looking to Cuddy for answers.

Cuddy had come by to check on House, finding his office door locked, she opened it with her set of keys and had found House asleep on the balcony. Watching him for several minutes before he felt her presence and woke up, she analyzed him. The painful grimace on his face even as he slept. His appearance telling her everything she needed to know to understand how bad off he really is.

She nearly yells, "He's weak as water! Dehydrated… Vomiting… He's in pain Wilson…" She marches up to his desk, "Why haven't you done something? Taken him home?… Brought him to me?.... Admitted him?… _Anything_?" She nearly shrieks.

"What are you talking about? House went home at least an hour ago. I walked by his office, the door was closed, blinds drawn. I thought…" Wilson pauses.

"Damn, I should have known… The blinds… He didn't leave… He just wanted it to look like he did… He wanted to be alone." The look on Wilson's face causes Cuddy to soften up as she sees the panic in his eyes.

He glances up at her, trying to formulate an apology, "I was so caught up with work, one of my patient's had an incident, I was paged, and I left him alone… I thought he went home…" Wilson murmurs.

Wilson stands up and hurriedly starts making his way out to the balcony from where Cuddy had entered.

Cuddy sighs, "I'm taking him home now… You can help me get him to the car…. Call a nurse; I'm going to need some fluids and an IV kit…" She pauses, looking at the passed out man, subconsciously gripping his thigh in his sleep, "…and a wheelchair."

When they reach House, Wilson's face blanches as he takes in the sight of his friend. Hair matted to his face with sweat, vomit dampening his shirt, hands trembling as they grasp his leg. Wilson could kick himself for not having known better.

Wilson heaves House into the wheelchair much to House's protest as he's startled awake. Cuddy unlocks the breaks and steps in front of House, shoving an emesis basin in front of his face.

"Here," she tells him. He grabs it but has eyes only for her chest, again.

"_Zing!_ I think we've got a winner…" he says, closing his eyes for a moment as another bout of nausea hits him, telling her between breaths, "…you should do… wet t-shirt… competitions more often… Cuddy…" House grins devilishly, looking like a sick old man staring at her soiled top.

"Oh, the girls are not happy about this," Cuddy sternly tells House.

Apparently, he thinks it's funny since he starts laughing softly, telling her slowly, "Oh… you're so sexy when you're riled up…"

He wiggles his eyebrows. The coyness of his statement is lost as she runs her finger tips up his sweaty pale face, lingering over his cracked lips before resting on his feverish forehead.

"I'm taking you home…" She tells him.

His eyes jerk up at this.

She continues, enjoying his reaction, "Where you'll get plenty of-" she pauses as a nurse hands her the supplies she'll need, "-fluids and rest." Cuddy grins as she sees House expression drop, showing his lack of enthusiasm.

"_Ow_…" House hollers, "_What was that for_?" He whines, looking more and more like a five-year-old than a grown man to Cuddy.

"Oh, I just _love_ the smell of fresh vomit in my car," She replies sarcastically, dropping the syringe she used to administer the antiemetic drug to House.

House sighs, as he rubs the sore spot on his upper arm where Cuddy treated him with a shot to help fight the nausea.

"Ready to go?" She asks. And with a slight nod of her head to Wilson, as House doesn't answer, they're off, making their way down the corridor, to the parking lot.

Not feeling up to arguing, House concentrates on the air hitting his face as Wilson pushes him out to Cuddy's car.

House can hear Cuddy's clicking of her high heels alongside of them. She's got House's backpack slung across her shoulders, box of medical supplies in her hands, while his cane dangles from her arm.

* * *

"Thanks Wilson, I can take it from here." Cuddy thanks Wilson as she slides into her car.

Wilson says goodbye and carefully closes the door to the car. House wraps his arms around himself, resting carefully across his stomach, looking miserable and glances in Cuddy's direction.

She gives him a soft smile and cranks up the car.

* * *

The ride to her house is quiet until House's quiet voice breaks the silence, "Can you turn the air on?" He asks, having to clear his throat after he speaks his throat aching.

Cuddy quickly switches on the air conditioner. The cool air blows out of the car's vents and House angles it so it hits him softly in the face.

"Thanks," House mumbles as he rests his head back on the headrest, closing his eyes, dwelling in the sensation of the cool breeze taming the heat radiating off his feverish skin.

Glancing at her lover, seeing the weariness in his features, Cuddy drives a little faster, wanting to get him home so she could take care of him.

* * *

Pulling into her driveway, she parks, and shuts the engine off. Opening his door, she urges him gently to get out of the car and into the house.

One arm slung around her shoulders, the other sweaty palm gripping his cane for dear life, they make their way into her bedroom, making a detour to the bathroom first.

With expert hands she strips him of his shirt, he's halfway out of it as the shot from earlier begins taking full effect.

He slurs, "What else was in that shot?"

She smiles and tugs a fresh t-shirt over his head, one that she had pulled out of his backpack. She leaves him to relieve himself and she returns shortly with two Vicodin and a cold glass of ginger ale.

He grabs the pills quickly, but wearily eyes the glass in her hand. She patiently holds the glass out to him and waits as he caves in and takes a sip of the liquid, aiding in washing down the painkillers.

She gives him a few minutes to let the liquid and pills settle on his stomach before they move out of the bathroom.

She asks, "Feel like you're going to be sick?"

He waits a moment, before replying, "No."

She holds the glass back out to him, "You think you can drink anymore?"

"No."

She sighs, glad she came prepared. She'll get fluids in him one way or another. Since he doesn't want to do it orally, she'll just have to give it to him intravenously.

He pulls himself up off her bathroom chair, using the sink as leverage and they once again hobble the few feet to her bed.

Nearing the night stand, House groans as his stomach clenches and he stumbles, trapping Cuddy between the comforter and his over-heated body.

The scene would be comical to Cuddy if House's breath hadn't reeked so much, even after she lent him a toothbrush, mere minutes ago.

He takes advantage of the moment and cops a feel while their bodies are pressed closely together.

"House…" She whispers dangerously.

"Cuddy…" He smirks, then grasps the headboard and holds himself up, as she slides out from under him.

"_Cuddy_…" He says weakly as he gasps.

"What House?" She asks impatiently, and then sees how he's got his eyes closed, and one arm wrapped around his middle.

She jumps, "Oh," and dashes across the room retrieving a waste basket from the bathroom and shoves it under his face.

She murmurs, "It's alright…" as she rubs her hands up and down his back trying to soothe him, feeling his body quiver with the force of his dry retching.

The earlier shot of antiemetic is helping to keep the sips of ginger ale and Vicodin down but he still feels the urge to gag but he's trying to control it.

House groans pitifully as he falls into bed. Cuddy maneuvers his limbs so that he's resting comfortingly on his left side. She pulls up the sheet and comforter, tucking him in gently.

Padding to the bathroom she grabs a couple of wet wash clothes and a tiny basin of cold water.

Breathing out a content, "_Ah_…" as Cuddy places the washcloth to his forehead, House grabs her wrist pulling her back to him, "Lay with me…" he pleads.

Seeing him this way tugs at her heart, but the doctor in her keeps her strong.

"On one condition," She says, trying to sound both authoritative and caring at the same time, "I'll be back in a few minutes," she says and he reluctantly let's go of her.

She slips out of her clothes, quickly washes off with a washcloth and puts on a fresh tank-top and cotton shorts before washing her hands and grabbing the IV kit and a bag of fluid.

Feeling the dip in the bed, House blindly reaches out his hand, exposing his arm. She grabs it and his eyes snap open at the feel of latex on his forearm.

"_Nooo_." He groans, his quick mind already knowing what she had in store for him.

"Come on," She urges, "The sooner you get some fluids in you, the better you will feel…" she states knowingly as she palpates for a good vein and continues, "and the sooner I'll lay down with you," she smiles at his pitiful attempt at a glare.

He relents, turning his head away from her and the needle and mumbles into his pillow, "_M'kay_," and sucks in a painful breath as the needle hits its mark.

She tapes his hand, securing the IV catheter and hangs the bag of fluid on the pole she brought with them, and then rearranges the blankets around him before slipping into bed, close beside him.

He lets out a content sigh as she wraps her arms around him, pushing herself up against his back.

"I should get sick more often…," he mumbles contently, relaxing into her touch.

"Just sleep," she whispers, running her fingers through his sweat soaked hair, making the ends stick up.

"_Tired_," he tells her, restlessly.

"I know," she whispers and holds him tighter as a soft moan escapes his lips.

"_Lisa_…" He calls out.

"Hmm?" She replies softly.

"Love you…" He tells her. She smiles.

"…No more clinic duty?" He pleads.

She laughs, "…No more clinic duty..." he breathes out a sigh of relief and closes his eyes in sleep.

She smiles at the content look on his face and whispers, "…_this _week."


	3. III: Revenge of the Doctor

**Wrong Diagnosis**

**Part III: Revenge of the Doctor**

_**i luv ewansmile**_

* * *

_**Later that afternoon…**_

Miraculously, House sleeps two hours away so far without any incident. However, hearing him moan and grunt in pain and discomfort in his sleep, keeps Cuddy awake the entire time, at his side, holding him to her chest as he sleeps fitfully.

Glancing down at him sleeping, she watches as his chest slowly rises and falls. She gently places her hand on his chest and rubs gently. His eyes flicker open for a second before shutting.

She tries again, this time calling his name softly, "_Greg_… wake up…"

A groan resonates deep in his chest and Cuddy almost gives up and lets him sleep but she knows he'll feel worse if she doesn't wake him up now.

"Come on, you need to try to go to the bathroom and then take your meds." She encourages him.

"_Hey_, _I'm a doctor too… And I say… sleep is good_," he slurs into her chest, burying his face further into her bosom.

She chuckles and the rumble shakes her stomach and the face sleeping there.

"Stop," he complains, the movement causing his headache to spike.

She calms her laughter, places her hands on his face, and then brushes her fingertips through his sweat matted hair.

"Come on, don't you at least want to brush your teeth?" She asks.

Then adds, "And shower?" She tries, over exaggerating the noise of taking a whiff of his offending odor.

"You smell." She tells him, poking a finger into his chest.

"Don't care." He mumbles, pushing her hand away. His stomach is still sore from his early retching and he swears he's pulled some of his abdominal muscles.

Deciding that he wasn't going to respond to her nice gestures at getting him up, Cuddy opts for the brash approach.

Grasping House by the shoulders, she heaves and quickly flips him off her, and onto his back.

The sudden change in position leaves him disoriented, eyes flashing open, arms failing.

"Hey!" He tries to shout his protest, missing her comfortable, warm body, but his voice is weak.

"Hey." Cuddy replies smiling, further annoying him, but a smile creeps on his face as he notices the tank top she's wearing and the way she's crawled over top of him, peering down into his face.

He tries to reach up and cup her face with his hand but she slaps it.

"_Ow_! What was that for?" He whines, cradling his slapped hand. It continues to hurt and he glances down and notices that the IV has become dislodge.

"Shit," he says becoming angry, causing Cuddy to quickly roll away from him and jump out of bed.

"Look what you've done!" He shouts at her, angrily trying to remove the IV and tape from his hand which is bleeding from the IV site.

Cuddy is so shocked by this abrupt change in demeanor that she stands there, shivering from the harshness of his voice. He's yelling at _he_r, the one person who is trying to help him, cares for him… _loves_ him.

House snaps at her, "Oh, so now you're going to cry?"

"Great!" He shouts, finally riding himself of the IV, he flings the tubing to the floor and attempts to rise up but collapses down onto the bed.

Hands coming to his forehead, he cradles his head in his hands, closing his eyes against the dizziness, and pounding going on in his skull, throbbing to the same beat as his heart.

Noticing the fresh sheen of sweat on his skin, Cuddy wipes her tears and takes a hesitant step forward and lays her palm on House's forehead.

The reaction is so lightening quick that she's too stunned for tears, as she finds herself on the bed room floor, a hand on her red hot cheek.

Hot tears stream down her face and over her fingers as the realization sinks he that House has just hit her.

Sobs hitching in her throat, Cuddy slowly rises off the floor, nearly running out of the room.

She grabs her house phone and dials the first number she can think of.

"Hello?"

"Wilson." Cuddy whispers.

"Cuddy? Is that you? Is everything okay? Is House…?" Wilson rattles off his questions.

Hearing her rapid breathing over the phone line, and her soft cries, Wilson knows there's something wrong.

"Just come…" Cuddy breathes out shakily.

"I'll be there soon… Just hang on." He reassures her, already locking the door to his office, racing down the hall to the elevators.

* * *

Opening the door to her house, Cuddy tries to give Wilson a kind, reassuring smile as she lets him in, but it turns into a slight grimace as the reminder of House's betrayal burns her face.

Wilson's eyes widen in shock at the sight of the hand print on Cuddy's cheek, anger instantly filling him.

"Did he… _hit_ you?" Wilson seethes, and then takes a step back; calming himself he brings his hand up, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"He's delirious… he's got a fever…" Cuddy whispers, breaking Wilson from his thoughts.

"He… he didn't mean too…" She tries to apologize for House, but she ends up breaking down in sobs, and Wilson takes a step closer to her and she welcomes the comfort of his arms, he just holds her.

Breathing hard still, Cuddy pushes herself off Wilson's chest and looks him in the eyes, conveying the seriousness of her coming words.

"Wilson, he shouldn't even have a fever at all with all the Vicodin he takes…"

Wilson can tell she's worried. Heck, he's worried himself, it isn't like House to hit people that he loves, he isn't a violent person, not even after the infraction.

And the doctor in Wilson tells him something serious is rampaging through House's system if all the acetaminophen from the Vicodin does not keep his temperature stable.

Cuddy and Wilson make their way silently to the bedroom where House is lying in bed.

As they approach the smell of fresh vomit assaults their senses and a faint cry is heard.

"_Cuddy_…" House cries out, eyes shut, whole body trembling.

She steps up to the bed but makes no effort to move further.

"Hey," she whispers, "I'm here."

"_Mmm'sorry…"_

The apology from the sick, stubborn man takes both Cuddy and Wilson by surprise.

Cuddy recovers first and whispers, "It's okay, I forgive you."

House's ragged breathing fills the room, as all occupants are silent for a moment before Wilson clears his throat.

"I'm going to find a thermometer and some towels." He whispers to Cuddy. She relays to him the location of each item and turns her attention back to House once Wilson heads to the bathroom for the supplies.

Looking at the vomit covering his shirt and jeans House starts to undo his pants to take them off but gets frustrated when his trembling hands won't obey him.

Cuddy takes a shaky breath, afraid of him lashing out at her again, but leans closer anyway.

"Hey, I'm just going to get you into some clean clothes, okay?" She asks, all the years of being a doctor paying off, she's treating him like any other non-lucid patient.

House doesn't reply, he's got his eyes closed now and she would think he might have gone back to sleep or passed out, if it weren't for his head lolling side to side, his lips moving as if he was trying to murmur something.

She begins to slip the jeans off his lanky legs but the action hurts his leg and he cries out, trying weakly to yank her hands away from his hips.

She retorts feeling only half as confident as she sounds, "You didn't have any arguments a few nights ago with me taking your pants off."

Her comment makes him laugh, but it comes out as a cough. The tiny smile on his sweat soaked face tells her everything is all right between them, for the moment.

Leaving him in his boxers, she chunks the damp pants into the clothes hamper.

Moving onto his shirt next, Cuddy pulls up the shirt and halts her actions.

"_Wilson_!" She shouts. The man comes running, towels and thermometer in hand.

"What's wrong?" he asks, quickly taking in the fact that House has seemed to have fallen into a delirious slumber.

"Look," Cuddy tells him, lifting House's shirt up further, exposing his abdomen.

"Oh, God." Wilson mutters. The sight of the angry looking rash on his friend's stomach confirming his suspicions.

Gently pushing Cuddy behind him, Wilson places his hand on House's head, effectively pausing the weak movements as he inserts a tympanic thermometer into his ear.

The machine beeps.

"103." Wilson tells her.

"I'm calling an ambulance." Cuddy frantically shouts.


	4. IV: Doctors are the Worst Patients

**Wrong Diagnosis**

**Part IV: Doctors are the Worst Patients**

_**i luv ewansmile**_

* * *

"Damn, his blood pressure's bottoming out, he's going into shock."

The EMT-Paramedic shouts to Wilson as he slings his stethoscope back around his neck. Wilson in reply throws him a _well-do-something_ look as his mind races with this new development, trying to piece together the symptoms kind of like how House would.

A few seconds later, Wilson is very impressed with the EMT's handiwork, as he's started a line with fluids running wide open trying to stabilize House's blood pressure.

"His temperature has risen to 104." The second paramedic informs the rest of the medical team, shoving cold packs into Cuddy's hands while continuing to assess his patient.

Feeling left out, Wilson looks over to Cuddy who is currently cradling House's head in her hands, trying to keep his brain from frying by placing ice packs on either side. House leans subconsciously into her touch as her fingertips brush his forehead. A sad smile lights up Cuddy's tear stained face.

Cuddy reluctantly but quickly removes her hands from House's head as one of the paramedics slides a non-rebreather mask over his face and then slips a pulse oximeter onto his finger.

Wilson reaches around her and grabs several more cold packs from the cooler, trying to keep his hands busy while his mind reels. He holds House's hands still, not letting him dislodge the several packs he lays across House's chest and abdomen trying to save the vital organs from damage from the fever.

The paramedic cuts open House's shirt and begins attaching cardiac leads and both Cuddy and Wilson gasp at the sight of the spreading rash, the EMT knowingly keeps his mouth shut, realizing that both doctors already can guess the potential diagnosis.

* * *

The sirens ring loudly in Cuddy's ears, giving her a headache as she's caught up in the whir of emotions of the moment. The sight of House rapidly deteriorating in front of her eyes shocks her.

She stares down at his face and across his torso to all the lines hooked up to monitors, and cringes as House stops thrashing and his head and arms drop laxly on the gurney, losing consciousness, out cold. His unresponsiveness is terrifying.

Wilson calls her name but she doesn't answer. She doesn't hear him as she screams out House's name.

The lights blink dizzily in front of her face as her heart races, her breathing rapid, and her tears marring her vision. She doesn't realize she's being held until Wilson shakes her.

"Snap out of it Cuddy!" She jerks her head up at him, meeting his brown eyes at his harsh command before her eyes settle on the two paramedics watching their Dean of Medicine have a breakdown, a panic attack.

Before Wilson can weave his tale of reassurances the heart monitor wails and the paramedics jump into action watching the monitor, applying the defibrillator pads, and charging.

"_Clear!_"

The soft thump of House's body against the gurney causes Cuddy to jerk in Wilson's arms and she slides down as Wilson's arms go slack as he zones in on the screen looking between the monitor and House's face.

A paramedic shouts almost gleefully, apparently enjoying the adrenaline rush of almost losing their patient.

"_He's back_! Got a strong sinus rhythm."

But Wilson isn't reassured as he watches the pulse oximeter reading drop slowly but steadying and then jumps to House's side, his hand on the man's chest recognizing the faint labored breathing.

"He's going into respiratory failure!"

Wilson roars, causing the young paramedics to jump into action quickly. Drawers flying open, plastic bags ripping open, the head of the gurney is lowered until House is in a fully supine position.

The cold packs are pushed away as well as the non-rebreather mask as the senior paramedic skillfully positions himself at House's head, laryngoscope blade at ready as he carefully maneuvers it down House's throat until he reveals the vocal chords. Holding the blade in one hand, he uses the other to glide the endotracheal tube into place.

The other paramedic quickly attaches the Ambu bag and pumps air into House's lungs as the senior paramedic listens for bilateral breathe sounds. Confirming the correct placement of the endotracheal tube the paramedic gives a thumbs up signaling the intubation as a success.

Wilson watches the monitor as House's oxygen saturation rate rises and he lets out the breath he has been holding, rubbing the palm of his hand down his tired face.

Cuddy stares blankly at the scene in front of her before she promptly throws up. The paramedic's who's shoes have just been splattered with vomit looks at her unfazed by his soiled shoes but wearily passes her a emesis bag and a clean cloth.

The occupants of the ambulance are silent as they intently monitor the House's condition.

Wilson finally able to breathe, carefully pulls the crumpled white sheet up, covering House's bare chest, the back of his hand goes to his forehead.

"He's burning up." Wilson blankly states.

The younger paramedic calmly retakes House's temperature.

"105." He replies, looking up worriedly at his partner.

"ETA, five minutes." The elder paramedic replies, knowing they've done all they can do for him until they get him to the hospital.

"Hang on House," Wilson whispers, holding his friend's cold fingers.

Her nerves shot, Cuddy just sobs.


	5. V: The Long Wait, The Agonizing Hours

**Wrong Diagnosis**

**Part V: The Long Wait, The Agonizing Hours**

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**

* * *

**Cuddy wipes the tears from her face as they burst through the emergency room doors, wanting to hide the evidence of her fear, but failing miserably.

They are met first by two nurses, one who quickly takes over the manual ventilation from the younger paramedic, the other helping push the gurney, wheeling House into a curtained off section of the emergency department and quickly hooking him up to their monitors.

The rings of the curtain ting as Dr. Cameron, head of the Emergency Department comes to a halt, taking in the sight in front of her, her eyes widen in shock at the sight of House's still body. She glances at the stricken look on Wilson's face who stares blankly in return.

Snapping back to attention as the paramedics fill Cameron in on her new patient's condition, she thanks them and starts yelling out orders.

Cuddy who is still in her shorts and tank top, wraps her arms around herself, trying to shield her body against the harsh cold of the emergency room, paying little attention to the stares coming from her staff at seeing her in such revealing attire.

Hearing the steady beep of House's heart monitor seems to bring Cuddy out of her daze, and she orders Wilson to step aside and bring her a pair of scrubs, then she whips her head to stare down Cameron.

Cuddy hurriedly informs Cameron of all the symptoms she's observed that the EMT's didn't know or share, her information more valuable for a diagnosis since she's been with House throughout the day.

Telling her everything from the nausea and vomiting and the antiemetic Phenergan she had given to him hours earlier to the mood swings, the fact that he has a raging fever even with all the acetaminophen containing Vicodin he's taken, to the soreness, the rash, down to the intimate detail of how his head and neck hurt when she had laughed while he used her body as a pillow as he tried to sleep earlier.

Quickly realizing what Cuddy is trying to say, adding up all the signs and symptoms in her head, Cameron's head snaps up, looking from the stressed, pained urgent look Cuddy is giving her to the sick features of her ex-boss, making her diagnosis.

"He has meningitis, he's septic." The statement comes out rushed, definitely not a question but Cuddy nods her head anyway.

"Do a lumbar puncture and confirm which type of bacteria it is, the rash and sudden onset of fever pretty much confirms bacterial and not viral meningitis." Cuddy breathes out through her nose, trying to calm herself as she lets Cameron be House's attending physician but still giving her input.

Cameron nods her head in agreement, and calmly states, "I'll get him started on broad-spectrum antibiotics until we get a sample of CSF and narrow it down from there. I'll start him on corticosteroids, and get a MRI to see how much… _swelling_ we're dealing with."

Cuddy notices the pause when Cameron says swelling. And she snaps.

"_Go ahead and say it_!" She yells, "Get a MRI to see how much _damage_ he has." Her voice trembles as tears silently stream down her face.

Cameron tentatively steps closer to her and reaches a hand out, speaking softly enough no one can hear her except Cuddy.

"He's going to be _okay_, he's got a good chance of coming out of this okay. _You_ got him here as quickly as you could. And now he's getting the medical attention he needs. But right now I need you to calm down. Sit beside him. Hold his hand. _He_ needs _you_ now."

The last line is uttered with a pang of sadness and a touch of bitterness radiating from Cameron's voice that Cuddy does not miss. She simply pulls out of Cameron's grasp and moves to stand beside House's unconscious body.

"_I'm here_." She whispers to him, clutching his hand in her smaller ones.

The soft whoosh-hiss of the ventilator, the beeps of the heart monitor, and the slight rise of fall of House's chest tells Cuddy he's still alive, still stubborn as ever, he'll pull through, because he has to.

Cameron whispers, "_Okay_," to herself and rushes off to retrieve the meds House needs personally.

* * *

Syringe in hand, Cameron swiftly injects the antipyretic into House's IV port, curious to why they the EMTs put in his right hand. She glances at his other hand, and notices the dried blood around the old IV site but does not say anything.

Nurses have cloaked him in cold packs since she's been gone and Cuddy is dabbing a cold cloth across House's face. She remains silent as Cameron quietly administers the medications.

Wilson returns seconds later and Cuddy stops her actions only to slide the purple scrubs overtop her shorts and tank top before resuming her position beside House.

"Any change?" Wilson asks in a huff, out of breath.

Cuddy answers before Cameron has a chance.

"His fever has dropped to 104, Cameron's hanging the antibiotics now along with steroids for the inflammation. We'll take him down to Radiology once we get his fever down to a safe level. His blood pressure is stable." Cuddy states, authority in her tone.

Wilson nods his head, but wonders where this change in Cuddy has come from, but then realizes the tension between the two strong females in the room.

Jealousy does not fit Cuddy, or maybe it wasn't jealousy, maybe she finally feels up to the challenge of being the doctor that she is. Looking the part in the purple scrubs, helps her feel the need to step into her role as doctor, she resumes her responsibility.

Cameron speaks up as she begins hanging the bags of fluid, each containing vital drugs, "I just administered an antipyretic. I'm also putting him on an anticoagulant for the increased clotting factors caused by the septicemia. Once he's stable enough we'll move him." She draws the curtain and leaves.

* * *

Being a doctor has it responsibilities. It comes by having knowledge and experience, and right now knowledge and experience with cases such as House's leaves both Wilson and Cuddy on edge.

Wilson quietly stands with Cuddy, trying to be supportive, not believing he's doing a very good job when he hears the change in Cuddy's breathing as she begins crying.

Searching for the words to say he's slightly taken aback when she's the one who begins talking.

"_I should have known_. _All_ afternoon, he'd cry out in pain as he slept, I'd just hold onto him tighter, hoping it would pass. I should have brought him in sooner… _No_… I should have gone ahead and admitted him when I first found him." She confesses in a tiny voice.

Wilson's heart clenches. He closes his eyes and shakes his head, knowing if anyone was to blame it was him. So he tells her what's been weighing on his mind ever since she called him out earlier in his office.

"_I left him alone Cuddy_."

The pained admission causes Cuddy to pause in her gentle caressing of House's hair. She looks up to see Wilson sink into a chair, hand coming to his eyes, covering the physical evidence of his personal remorse.

Not finding the ability to forgive Wilson or offer comforting words, Cuddy just turns her attention to the man she both loathes and loves.

She smiles weakly down at him, thinking of the sarcastic remarks he would be yelling at them if he were awake and could see them so caring, so _worried _about him. He would never admit it verbally, but he loves them too.

She gives in and places a comforting hand on Wilson's shoulder and he breaks down and sobs. She rubs her hand up and down his back soothing him. He leans his head back, closes his eyes, just resting them.

* * *

After watching over both of them for several minutes, Cuddy feels weary and decides to have a seat as well. She leans down and plants a soft kiss to House's sweat glistening brow and lets her lips linger there.

Straightening back up, she reaches for a thermometer.

The sudden laugh from Cuddy is enough to startle Wilson and he jerks up from the chair.

Cuddy smiles brightly at Wilson.

"His fever is coming down. It's 102."

Wilson returns the smile.

He's getting better. It's only a matter of time.

Cuddy lays the hospital blanket carefully over House's form, he's only he his boxers, and the single white sheet makes him look so much paler even with the red flush of fever. Smoothing the blanket around his body, she sits down after tucking him in.

Not ten minutes later, Dr. Cameron and a handful of nurses are preparing to move House to Radiology, to get a MRI; Cuddy stays out of their way, watching as the team of doctors and nurses work efficiently with each other.

In that fleeting second, she feels a sense of pride in her hospital. That is until the ravine of reality crushes down upon her at the reason she's watching and not actively participating.

This is _House_ they're treating, not just another patient. And she's not just another doctor, this time, she's the… _family._ And she's waiting to hear if the one she's loves will pull through this illness and the extent of damage it will leave in its wake.


	6. VI: That's Good News Right?

**Wrong Diagnosis**

**Part VI: That's Good News Right?**

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* * *

Late in the night brings with it a sense straight out of the twilight zone. Not really night, not late enough to be true morning. Add in the chaos of a hospital, and the sickness of a loved one, you find yourself caught in a tide of emotions that you can't break free.

Cuddy stands with her arms across her chest; barring herself from the empty feelings washing over her as her face is cast in the bright artificial lights of the hospital ICU waiting room. She stares without seeing, her mind lost in a thunderstorm of torments. The MRI results were not what she had been hoping to hear. The swelling is still severe. And now they're waiting on the results of the cerebral spinal fluid from the lumbar puncture they performed hours ago.

Coupled with the fact that House has not yet shown a single sign of regaining consciousness, the entire occupants of the ICU waiting room are floored with the dire situation facing them head on.

Soft sighs escape thin lips as Cuddy breaks from her trance, her eyes slowly crawling over the man standing in front of her. Wilson stands silently, his eyes vague, much like Cuddy's, a hallow look to them, long lost is the fire of youthful hope, what some… well, what House would call a fool's hope. Oh, how life's lessons have taught him well. Cuddy bitterly wonders if life has been so tragic for Wilson to let him emphasize with House finally.

Wilson is in his white coat. Cuddy absentmindedly ponders when he's had the time to visit his office, before she remembers the long hours she's spent at the hospital, which is nothing new.

Except this time instead of chasing after House to do his clinic hours or to take a new case, she's begging him to wake up, yell at her, grin at her, stare at her chest, _anything_.

That's not entirely true. She's afraid. Afraid that if he wakes up, he won't remember her. That he won't remember who he is. Won't be able to breathe on his own. Not be able to see her worried face. Or hear her gentle voice calling his name. This disease can take so much from a man who has already lost so much.

Hope is not enough. He'll need a miracle. Turning quickly, Cuddy slams her hand against the door frame.

"It's not fair." She whispers vehemently.

Wilson steps up to her, placing a gentle hand on her back.

"I know. I know." He repeats softly.

"Sit down… Rest... Sleep…. It's going to be a while." He whispers gently to her, moving his hand from her back to her shoulder, pulling her around to face him. She looks at the hand on her shoulder then up to Wilson's face.

She gives him a sad smile.

"I can't." She whispers, worry and fear taking hold of her calm confidence and smashing it to pieces.

Placing her hand over top of his, she slides his hand off her shoulder, bringing it down encased in hers.

"I'm going to go sit with him." Cuddy whispers and gives Wilson's hand a soft squeeze before letting it go.

As she turns to leave, pagers start going off, the beeping alerting the waiting doctors.

Thirteen knocks awake the men sleeping beside her as she reads the page.

"Some of the lab results are in." She says as she jumps up and the rest of House's team gather in the hallway.

Wilson turns back to Cuddy, "I'm going with them. I'll page you if…"

He trails off; not needing to finish as Cuddy leaves, nodding quickly, feeling she's already spent too much time away from House and she'll like to be there at his side when news comes in.

* * *

Cuddy steps quietly into the ICU room. The soft snap hiss of the ventilator, beeping of various machines, the drip-drop of the fluids dropping and flowing through tubes into House's veins, are the only noise in the room. The lights are dimmed for the night, and House is cast in a soft glow of light.

Cuddy's hand comes up to her mouth as she gasps, collapsing into the chair beside his bed, her other hand instantly going to wrap around his limp fingers.

"Oh…" She breathes out a sigh of anguish at the sight of him, her heart involuntarily clenching.

Shuffles of footsteps are heard outside of the door. Cuddy can hear hushed whispers before the door slides open slowly and Wilson steps in and turns the lights on brighter.

One look at Wilson sends Cuddy into hysterics, a lump rising in her throat as she feels her world closing in around her.

"Oh, my God. Wilson…?" Cuddy asks, fear clouding her judgment as she watches Wilson's stricken face.

"He's not going to make it this time is he?" She sobs as Wilson remains silent, fighting for the right words to say.

"Cuddy…" Wilson starts but she cuts him off as she holds up her hand.

A soft knock on the door is heard before people start making their way into the tiny room, House's teams, past and present file slowly in.

Cuddy stares wide eyed, her mind on full alert and Wilson is finally able to break through to her.

"Cuddy, he's going to be okay. We know which bacteria it is, all we have to do is start him on the right batch of antibiotics." Wilson tells her the good news, but he doesn't look as happy as he should.

"Oh," Cuddy breathes out an immense sigh of relief, but she notices the stagnant silence of all the people in the room.

"Everyone who has come in close contact with him over the days will need to start their own treatment immediately in case the infection has been passed to them, including you Cuddy," Wilson finishes.

"Okay…" Cuddy breathes out slowly, not liking the way that Wilson looks the way he normally does when he is about to share bad news.

"So we know what it is. We can treat it. He will get better. That's good news, right?" She asks almost pleadingly, worried when no one seems to want to speak up and answer her.

Glancing around the room at the silent faces, Wilson brings his hand up and rubs the back of his neck before bringing it down, knowing what he's got to do.

"He's severely allergic to the antibiotics that are effective against the strain of bacteria he's contracted… He's already septic… unconscious… if we wait any longer… with the amount of swelling, things don't look so good." Wilson finishes the last of his sentence in a whisper.

"But… we can…" Cuddy starts, mind whirling at what they can possibly do.

Finally gaining enough courage, House's past and present teams start shooting off ideas. It goes on for about five minutes before Cuddy has heard enough and hushes them all with a loud, "Stop it!"

Most stare in shocked silence her outburst, but Wilson merely moves closer to her seeing she's about to lose it.

Cuddy shrugs off his hand and brushes past them, coming to a stop outside of the room door, back against the wall before slowly sliding down the wall.

She brings her head up as Wilson and the rest of the group come out, some giving Cuddy a sad smile, while the others avoid eye contact completely as they pass her by.

Wilson waits until they are all gone before he holds his hand out to Cuddy. She wipes her eyes with her hands before she grasps Wilson's out stretched hand.

He pulls her to her feet.

"They've got an idea." Wilson states calmly.

She nods subtly before something behind Wilson's shoulder catches her attention.

A nurse rushes by them and into House's room.

Cuddy and Wilson enter in close behind her, alarmed at the situation they find.

The scene that greets them is a terrifying one for Cuddy as House seizes.

Cuddy gives out a yelp as she is pushed out of the way as a second nurse runs in and quickly injects a strong anticonvulsant into one of House's IV ports.

The four wait anxiously, watching monitors while holding failing limbs, trying to hold House's body still.

Minutes pass before the violent shaking subsides and the occupants breathe a sigh of relief.

One nurse slings her stethoscope off and places the end of it to House's chest, listening carefully.

"Endotracheal tube is still in place. He didn't dislodge it. I hear breath sounds bilaterally." She gives a fleeting look of relief before she notices the sheen of sweat covering House's face. She glances down and notices the rest of his body is slowly being soaked. She places the back of her hand to his forehead.

"He's burning up." She states, confusion crinkling her brow.

She moves to the end of the bed and picks up the patient file clipped there. Flipping through the pages she looks up at Wilson and Cuddy.

"He's already been giving both an anticonvulsant and an antipyretic." She's clearly baffled by the deteriorating health of her patient when he's already been given drugs to prevent the symptoms from occurring.

"He's getting worse," Cuddy exclaims in a sob, looking desperately between the nurses and Wilson.

"Do something!" She shouts.


	7. VII: Take Action, Face the Consequences

**Wrong Diagnosis**

**Part VII: Take Action, Face the Consequences**

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* * *

Looking between Cuddy's tired face, House's pale one and the monitors beeping out a steady rhythm; Wilson comes to a decision quickly.

"We can't wait any longer," Wilson blurts out, coming out of his chair, pacing the length of the room in hurried strides.

Cuddy jumps, startled at Wilson's sudden movement, and nods her head in silent agreement, happy someone else is making the decisions. She doesn't know if her weary mind could make sense of it all.

Wilson is no infectious disease specialist but he can only see two options in this case and the act of doing nothing is unacceptable.

Closing the door quietly behind him, Wilson leaves Cuddy alone with House. She rises and stands beside the bed and watches him.

* * *

Walking down the hall, Wilson comes to an abrupt halt in the nurse's station corridor. His presence immediately gains the attention of the elite group of intensive care nurses.

"Come with me please," he asks gently as he points to the nurse assigned to House and they leave to draw up the medications from the pharmacy.

Wilson informs the other nurse to be prepared with a crash cart so they would have a full line of resuscitative medications close at hand and to page House's team back to the ICU.

* * *

Several minutes later Wilson strolls in, lab coat floating in his wake. Quickly, he clears the area beside the bed and lowers a bedrail for easy access.

The two nurses come in, one pushing the crash cart with the defibrillator, the other with a tray with carefully laid out medications in syringes, and bags of fluid.

"You're going to give him the antibiotics anyway." Cuddy states in understanding as she sees all the medications, the antibiotics, the corticosteroids, the anticonvulsants, an antipyretic, an anticoagulant, both atropine and epinephrine among other commonly found meds in a crash box.

Wilson nods his head as he does a finger stick and seeing the reading requests the nurse to, "Go ahead and hang a bag of dextrose, his glucose level is low."

A soft knock comes from the open door and Wilson and Cuddy step out into the hallway to great House's team.

"We're going to administer the drugs anyway, unless you've come up with a better idea?" Wilson asks the people standing around.

Chase speaks up, "Um… that was actually what we were thinking." He looks around at the other somber faces agreeing with him.

Wilson looks annoyed, but he's more frustrated than anything for wasting time, "Then why didn't you just say so earlier before he seized!"

Chase gives him a lost look before replying, "We wanted to run through any other ideas first."

Cuddy sighs and saves them from having to defend themselves, she understands that they're all tired, it's late, and they're all worried.

"It's okay. Have you all had your own dose?" Cuddy asks patiently, making sure they've all taken the appropriate precautions so they don't become infected with the same pathogen that's affecting House.

Soft replies of, "Yes," and nods of the head answer in reply before the corridor falls silent except for the rustle of the two nurses quickly donning gowns, face masks and gloves before entering House's room wearing contact precaution attire.

"Good. Just… go home. Get some sleep. We'll page each of you if something… happens," Cuddy whispers tiredly as she ushers them in the direction of the elevator.

They whisper back their assurances and well wishes and Cuddy takes in a calming breath as she watches the elevator door close's finally before slowly turning around and heading back down the hall.

Upon return to House's room, she notices all the lights are turned all the way up and winces at the brightness before she notices she's standing in the way. She takes a few steps back and makes room for the nurses to maneuver and keep their sterile field as they begin the preparations to hang the new medications.

Cuddy watches the nurses in action as one primes tubing, and begins mixing medications into bags of fluid. The other nurse, is setting the IV pump to begin running the fluids carrying the IV medications into House's blood system.

Wilson is quickly stripping away the blankets covering House's body, parting the hospital gown in front, leaving House naked from the waist up in case the worst should happen and he code. They needed to be prepared.

Wilson is constantly glancing up at the monitors as he watches for any sign that House is having an adverse reaction to the meds.

Several minutes pass and Cuddy keeps her eyes on House's closed ones, imaging the mesmerizing blue that lay beneath.

The nurses and Wilson closely monitor House's vitals, and one nurse checks his pulses checking for clots, and then checking his deep tendon reflexes.

Cuddy stares at House's face and holds her breath as she feels cemented to the floor, incapable of moving. _What if it doesn't work? What if it does more harm than good? What if we're too late?_

She's jolted out of her thoughts as the older nurse brings a change in House's condition to the group's attention.

"Blood pressure is 60 over 40! Heart rate is 42!" She shouts. As soon as the words are out of her mouth, Wilson is uncapping a prefilled syringe of atropine and carefully pushes it into House's IV port before uncapping a second syringe of epinephrine and pushing that too. The cardiac monitors tell them that the atropine and epinephrine are working as House's blood pressure and heart rate begin to rise steadily.

A nurse rechecks House's peripheral pulses, and she lingers longer than necessary trying to find one, and something clicks in Cuddy's brain.

"He's thrown a clot!" She chokes out, staring frantically at the nurse. The nurse merely waits patiently and tries palpating again for a pulse in House's right foot.

Finding one she gives a weak smile, "There! It's weak but there's a steady pulse." She then reaches and presses one of his toes and watching as the nail bed blanches and quickly refills to a nice pink.

"Capillary refill is good. He hasn't thrown a clot," The nurse calmly replies and Cuddy visibly relaxes and almost looks embarrassed at her quick assumption.

Two pagers go off, and the nurses leave Wilson and Cuddy alone with House as one of their other patient's is on the verge of crashing.

"Cuddy…" Wilson says softly trying to gain her attention. She doesn't respond but he watches as her brow furrows and Wilson looks at what she's intentionally staring at.

Wilson's eyes widen as he watches House's body tremble, fearing he's about to have another seizure, Wilson scans over the tray of meds laid out beside him, his hand hovering as he tries to find the right one.

He's about to push the anticonvulsant when Cuddy's hand stops him and Wilson watches as she slowly pulls the sheet and blanket up, carefully tucking the covers around House.

"He's just cold," Cuddy states, finally looking Wilson in the eyes, happy she got it right as House's body relaxes and is still.

Wilson sighs, "I'd never thought I'd be happy to see someone shiver." Cuddy stares at him at his odd comment and Wilson elaborates, "His temperature is stable," he states and jerks his head in the direction of the monitor where it shows that House's temperature is now in the high side of normal.

Cuddy smiles softly and places her hand against House's face, and brushes her fingers through his hair.

She pulls a chair closer to the bed and grabs House's hand, holding it in hers and whispers into his ear, "It's working."

"Now we just wait," Wilson says running his hand against the back of his neck before he too collapses into a chair and waits, hoping for the best.


	8. Part VIII: Recovery and Redemption

**Wrong Diagnosis**

**Part VIII: Recovery and Redemption**

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* * *

_**Hours later…**_

Sunlight slowly beings to stream through the window into the hospital room, illuminating the sleeping form of Lisa Cuddy before shining onto the hospital bed. The golden rays look out of place against the tubes and leads, hospital issued gown, blankets and the still form of Gregory House.

A soft rapt on the door and Cuddy comes out of her light slumber. She stretches while at the same time brushing the wrinkles out of her borrowed purple scrubs and watches as the nurse administers House's third does of Mannitol, a drug helping to relieve the pressure in his skull by helping his body excrete excess fluid out of his body.

Cuddy's drifted in and out of sleep, only sleeping for fifteen minutes at a time since they administered the second round of antibiotics to House. At that time they injected the epinephrine and atropine before his vitals plummeted, now he's holding steady on his own, an improvement.

"Morning Dr. Cuddy," the nurse whispers as she suppresses a giggle. Cuddy smiles brightly as she looks over at Dr. Wilson who is fast asleep in his chair, always perfect hair sticking in up in odd places, and snoring softly. It was an amusing sight to see.

Cuddy glances at House's unconscious form, and her smile quickly fades, sorrow marring her features. She looks at the nurse who is doing her morning assessment of her patient.

Cuddy rises out her chair slowly, her back making a popping sound as she stretches again and she lets out a weary smile, imagining the sight she is, sleep deprived, in desperate need of a shower… in desperate need of her lover to wake up, smile at her, smirk and whisper a good morning to her like he normally would.

The nurse has finished her assessment and empties House's foley. She's washing her hands when Cuddy finally walks over.

Wiping her hands, the nurse quietly whispers her report to Cuddy. Cuddy whispers a, "Thanks," in reply. All is well, but Cuddy already knew that, they're all just waiting for him to wake up.

There's a stagnant pause that's interrupted by a loud snore coming for Wilson, whose head is now smashed against the back of the chair.

The nurse quirks an eyebrow up and grinning asks, "Did you get any sleep at all?" She doesn't give Cuddy a chance to reply before she's proposing, "I'll be in here giving him a bed bath if you'd like to go down and get you some breakfast, or a cup of coffee…"

"Thank you, but I'll do that if you don't mind," Cuddy replies a slight twinkle in her eyes.

"Would you like me to make sure they send up a breakfast tray then?" The nurse replies with an understanding smile of her own.

"No, that's okay too, I think I'll kick Dr. Wilson out for a while, and let him bring me something back, thank you though," Cuddy smiles.

"You're welcome," the nurse says as she walks out, pulling the door to.

Cuddy walks over to the snoring doctor and pauses before she shakes his shoulder.

"Hey, Wilson… Wake up." She laughs as he slowly brings his hands up and drags them across his tired face.

"What time is it?" He asks, before he opens his eyes, instantly shielding them from the rays of the morning sun.

"Almost eight. I'm going to give House a bath; I thought you might like to go freshen up a little bit, grab something to eat."

"Yeah… You want anything?" Wilson asks still groggy as he stands and shrugs into his white lab coat.

"A bagel and a fruit cup would be nice. Oh, and an extra large cup of coffee would be great," she replies.

Wilson pauses making a mental note of her order before focusing in on his friend.

"Any change?" He asks quietly.

"No," Cuddy breathes out.

Wilson gives a quick nod of his head before he shuffles out of the room.

Cuddy's on her way out to when she bumps into a nurse. They both laugh and she gives Cuddy the supplies that she's holding.

"Oh, you didn't have to do that. I was just on my way to the supply closet," Cuddy replied taking the basin, soap, washcloths, and clean linen from the nurse, yet still grateful.

"I've got to do my assessments on my other patients, but call me when you've finished and I'll help you put those clean linens on," and the nurse whisks away to her other patients.

Cuddy closes the door and pulls the curtain around House's bed, giving him privacy, and sets the basin in the sink and begins filling it with warm water.

She pours the liquid soap into the water and swirls it around until bubbles form in the basin, she smirks and speaks to the unconscious man in the hospital bed, "This isn't how I envisioned our first bubble bath together."

Her soft eyes take in the pallor of his face, as she slowly wrings out the wet wash cloth, and gently cradles one side of his face in her hands as she gently cleans his face, starting with his eyes first, then his forehand.

She pauses then runs her finger tips through his hair, making the wet strands stand on end before she carefully washes his checks, careful not to wet the straps keeping the ventilator in place.

She slowly trials the washcloth down his neck, very carefully not to touch the tubes of the ventilator and breathes deeply as her heart clenches, knowing he couldn't breathe on his own.

Breathing out though her nose, she gathers herself and finishes with his face and neck before switching the washcloth out for a warm towel. She gently pats dry his face before she slowly removes his gown.

A soft shiver passes through her as she sees the blood red and purple rashes scattered along House's torso, at least they're slowly fading.

She washes on side at a time, dipping the cloth in the warm water, keeping him covered with a warm towel.

Cuddy wraps his upper body in the sheet and blanket, keeping him warm as she moves down to his legs.

She washes his left leg then moves on to his right. Moving the washcloth over his right thigh she freezes in panic as House's head jerks, turning to the side slightly. She lifts his hand off his injured thigh and continues.

Cuddy finishes the bed bath, the nurse helps her roll House and changed the bed sheets, and has House tucked in warmly, fresh blankets draped around him.

Wilson comes back with breakfast and they eat, he's also changed clothes and looks refreshed.

They eat and Cuddy leaves to take a quick shower in the nurses' lounge and puts on fresh scrubs, medium blue ones.

House stirs later in the day, the intracranial pressure has gone down to a safe level, and House stirs a little bit.

They put soft restraints on him before they decide to sedate him and let him rest until he's able to come of the vent, then they let him wake up naturally.

Everyone clears out of the room as House slowly comes to. Cuddy is at his bedside as his eyes flutter open.

"Hey," she whispers, a weary smile upon her face. His blue eyes lock in on hers and her smile falters as she receives a clear view to a window of his pain, and fear.

She moves quickly, cradling his face in her hands, her face inches from his.

"Shh… Shh… You're okay."

"It's hurts." He pleads, barely getting the words out.

"I know. You've been very sick. But you're getting better. Now sleep."

Less than a week later House has recovered to a point where he could be safely discharged from the hospital and he and Cuddy rest in the comfort of their home.

"Anybody else get sick?" House asks, breaking the quiet moment the two are sharing in the living room.

"No, everyone's fine." Cuddy says, with a small laugh.

"What?" House asks skeptically.

"Nothing." Cuddy skirts around the truth of her humor.

"Come on Lisa, what?"

She smiles before giving in. "You care." She states simply.

House says nothing, not denying the statement but taking the opportunity to swipe Cuddy's yogurt off the coffee table.

He takes a big scoop and exaggerates his enjoyment, "Yum!"

"Ass!" Cuddy accuses as she moves in closer to him on the couch.

He sets the yogurt down as he pulls her closer until she straddles him.

"Now that's more like it!" He grins as his hands glide over her body.

"I'm glad you're feeling better." She says between kisses.

"So am I. So am I."

* * *

**The End.**

**Author's Note: **That's it guys. Sorry it has taken me so long but truth be told I have lost interest in this story and House in general. But I've always hated it when authors left stories hanging. So I took what notes I had left on this story and tacked then onto the chapter I was working on before I went on hiatus and that's how I decided to end it. It's not something I'm happy with but I felt it needed an ending.

Thank you to everyone for reading.


End file.
